


The Charming Disguise

by bunnyfication



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crossdressing, Ficlet, M/M, Sexual Content, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyfication/pseuds/bunnyfication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany might think he has the upper hand, but France has played this game before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Charming Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Crossdressing, implied sex, manipulative France, language, shortfic
> 
> A.N.: Written for the kink meme, for [this prompt.](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/12046.html?thread=27613198#t27613198) Read the excerpt meant for inspiration...and was hit hard by the inspiration indeed. Thought the original quote is way more hot that this. x'3  
> Summary: Germany might think he has the upper hand, but France has played this game before.
> 
> Written c. 2010

There's a mirror on the wall beside the bed, and France spares it a vague glance as he rises from the bed. He looks assesively over the sight presented, the smeared lipstick and disarrayed dress. Touches his chin absently, unused to the feeling of smooth skin there.

Germany sleeps the deep sleep of a person who's just won himself a country and celebrated the victory by fucking said country through the bed. He looks young in sleep, face smoothed from the usual frown, and France smiles. Stupid of him to let his guard down, but then he _is_ young.

Why, the way he'd looked when he first saw France in the dress and makeup, the way his mouth had fallen open in surprise, his eyes glazed with sudden lust. So easy to lure away from his soldiers with a few sweet, simpering words. Oh, certainly his words had been disdainful and commanding, but underneath it France had seen the confusion. And then, better yet, the belief that he was dealing with someone weak, someone who would not cause any trouble. Someone he could take and then turn his back to.

Foolish little lamb.

Germany doesn't even stir when France pulls out the knife hidden under the mattress and kneels over him. It's not so much that France hesitates, but he feels no urgency either. He has plenty of time to decide whether or not to bite into that unprotected white neck. After all, he might not die of it, and France has learned the hard way not to teach his enemies a lesson they might learn from.

Instead, he pulls down the cover to follow the line of bandages on the other's chest. Such peculiar cuts and bruises, these, and so awkwardly bandaged, as if he's done it himself. He inspects them with morbid curiosity. Yes, France has seen this before too, knows what a self inflicted wound looks like.

He smiles again, coolly and mirthlessly, and then bends down to kiss the other on the forehead, the barest touch of lips. When he leans back, Germany is sleeping like the dead again. And he's so pale, this great victor of his.

"I am patient," France whispers, putting the knife back to where he took it from. "I will wait, and perhaps...perhaps you'll do my work for me."

*  



End file.
